ESSAY; Is There Censorship?

By Rachel Donadio

Published: December 19, 2004

Editors' Note Appended

In accepting a lifetime achievement award from the National Book Foundation at a black-tie gala in Manhattan last month, Judy Blume, the doyenne of young-adult fiction, delivered herself of the following admonition: ''Your favorite teacher -- the one who made literature come alive for you, the one who helped you find exactly the book you needed when you were curious, or hurting, the one who was there to listen to you when you felt alone -- could become the next target.''

A target, that is, of censorship. Blume's books, which address sexuality and religion with a frankness that has made many a grown-up squeamish, have been among the books most frequently banned from public school libraries over the years, and so the author certainly knows whereof she speaks. Yet there was something slightly alarmist in Blume's remarks. In somber, insistent tones, she spoke as if the authorities were lurking behind the doors of the Marriott Marquis ballroom ready to burst in at any moment and break up the party.

Blume's speech perfectly captured the mood in certain literary circles these days, where air once thick with now banned cigarette smoke instead hangs heavy with talk of the C-word. But the kind of censorship Blume has faced concerns individual libraries choosing not to lend her books, or placing restrictions on who can borrow them. It isn't about government harassment, even though that's what Blume seemed to be implying.

The definition of censorship has loosened so much that the word has become nearly devoid of meaning. Long gone are the days when the government banned racy books like D. H. Lawrence's ''Lady Chatterley's Lover,'' Henry Miller's ''Tropic of Cancer'' or James Joyce's ''Ulysses.'' When it comes to the written word, censorship debates are no longer about taste and decency -- although those issues are much in the news concerning the visual arts, television and radio. Instead, the debate over books tends to center on geopolitics, national security and foreign policy.

Today, most defenders of the written word are focusing their energies on opposing certain sections of the USA Patriot Act, chief among them Section 215, which states that federal investigators can review library and bookstore records under certain circumstances in terrorism investigations. Larry Siems, the director of international programs at the PEN American Center, strikes an oft-heard chorus when he denounces ''the growing use of government surveillance and government intrusion into your creative space.'' This, in turn, feeds a concern ''that the government is able to see more deeply into our intellectual lives,'' Siems says.

Where there is smoke, there may very well be fire, but there may also be mirrors. It's often hard to draw the line between perception and practice, between how certain government regulations are viewed and how they're actually being enforced. The very mention of the Patriot Act is enough to drive many publishers, writers, librarians, bookstore owners, readers and concerned citizens into a near-paranoid frenzy at the idea that the government is intruding into their personal business, although few can cite specific instances in which that is the case.

Indeed, the marketing department of any given publishing house probably has far more power over free expression in America than any government office; if it decides a smart book won't sell, the publisher may not sign it. Attitudes are rampant, but facts are harder to find. And ultimately, grandstanding and self-righteousness obscure the fact that some cases do approach government censorship.

Consider two recent lawsuits. This fall, a group of publishers and Shirin Ebadi, a lawyer and leading women's rights advocate in Iran who won the Nobel Peace Prize in 2003, filed two separate lawsuits against the Treasury Department's Office of Foreign Assets Control, or OFAC, which places serious restrictions on importing written work by authors in Iran, Sudan, Cuba and other countries under United States trade embargo. Under these regulations, buying the rights to unwritten books or making significant editorial changes to written works without a license is considered ''providing a service,'' and therefore akin to trading with the enemy, something punishable with jail time and fines of up to $1 million. Publishers argue that this regulation violates the First Amendment.

OFAC devotes most of its resources to investigating terrorist financing and narcotics trafficking, and the regulations are largely intended for those aims. Some of the regulations at issue have been on the books for decades -- the Trading With the Enemy Act dates to 1917 -- and since the 80's amendments have been added to exempt ''informational materials'' from being subject to sanctions. But the current fuss dates back to this spring, when the Office of Foreign Assets Control issued a particularly stiff response to a query from the Institute of Electrical and Electronic Engineers, which wanted to publish papers by scientists from countries under embargo. The Treasury office ruled that the institute could edit a manuscript from a country under embargo, and engage in peer review, but that making any ''substantive or artistic alterations or enhancements of the manuscript'' would be illegal without a license. Likewise, no publisher could market a book and no literary agent could sign an author from an embargoed country without a license.

Editors' Note: December 19, 2004, Sunday
An essay on Page 16 of the Book Review today, ''Is There Censorship?,'' discusses government regulations on publishing the work of writers in Iran, Sudan, Cuba and possibly other countries under United States economic sanctions. The essay cites Treasury Department rulings that buying the rights to books not yet written, or making substantive alterations or enhancements in written works from those countries, might be illegal and punishable unless each transaction was licensed in advance by the department. On Wednesday, after the Book Review had gone to press, the Treasury issued a new general license permitting ''all transactions necessary and ordinarily incident to the publishing and marketing of manuscripts, books, journals and newspapers'' with people in those countries, provided the publishers do not deal with representatives of their governments.